“I know,” she says with a haughty lift of her chin. Then a smile softens her face. “So did you.”
Sixty minutes later, after a quick shower and a phone call back home, Seth’s sitting on a chaise lounge in the hallway. He’s changed into a dark tux. And he doesn’t wear tuxes. Not to award shows, not to anything.
He checks the time on his phone. Seven. Lacey’s late.
He smears his face in his hands, feeling awkward and antsy. The party’s in full swing. He can hear the sounds of conversation, the pop of bottles, the frenetic beat of music.
Music.
He thinks of Luke, of the Brothers Kincaid. They’re taking the stage tonight at the Station Inn, their old favorite. A pang of regret hits him that he’s missing it. His fiddle. His brother. Someone else in his spotlight. But as he thinks of Lacey, he knows there’s no place he’d rather be.
He taps a toe, listening. A beat in his boot, his heart.
He flags down a server carrying a tray of champagne. A napkin and a pen now in his hands, he sits back on the chaise.
The song bubbles within him, like some roiling underground current. He isn’t sure if it’s the distance from Nashville or the change of scenery, but he’s damn sure going to go with it.
Hell, it’s easy, ain’t it? You just pull out your heart and rub it on the page.
I was reckless, I was wild
Been making the same damn mistakes
Since I was a child
Beat myself up for half my life
Left is right, right is wrong
I’ve always been someone a little more lost than found
He sits back and evaluates what he’s written. Not good, not great, but it’s a start.
Seth grins.
Maybe Graham was right. Sometimes you stay still to move forward.
A clearing of a throat has him looking up.
Seth’s jaw drops.
Fuck him.
Lacey stands in front of him, wearing an incandescent smile and a diaphanous pearly blue dress. With a sweetheart neckline and delicate ruffles clinging to her toned silhouette, it has her looking as if she’s made of ocean, made of waves. A slender bronze thigh peeks through the sky-high slit. Her golden hair waves around her shoulders. And her eyes, lined dark and smoky, are greener than he’s ever seen them.
She’s beautiful. Absolutely smoking hot and Seth’s got to pull himself together before his entire brain short-circuits at the sight of her.
At Seth’s silence, Lacey smooths a self-conscious hand down the glossy curve of her hip. Then she frowns. “Don’t say I’m late, Seth. I’m not late.”
He can’t. Can’t even have his usual comeback. Seeing her standing there is like knockout gas. He can’t even remember his own damn name.
He stands, his throat tightening unbearably. Hastily, he shoves the napkin in his back pocket. Lacey’s eyes widen as she takes in his appearance. A faint pink stains her cheeks. “You, uh ... look nice.”
Seth straightens his cuffs. “Some might say handsome.”
She scoffs. “Now I wouldn’t go that far.” Her lips lift at the corners. “But yeah. You clean up okay.” Still staring, she steps forward, the space between them closing in a heady rush. “Can I ...?” Her hands flutter, graceful fingers reaching out to straighten his thin tie.
Seth shifts in his boots, a strange nervousness sideswiping every emotion.